


The Deli Fic

by Val_Creative



Series: Warlock & His Dollophead [13]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Rimming, Situational Humiliation, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 16:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1611428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur struggles for financial independence with a new job. Merlin, naturally, makes everything far more difficult when he lands himself in Arthur's life. And makes it incredibly wonderful and a tad filthy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Deli Fic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [babyintrenchcoat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyintrenchcoat/gifts).



> (A very special thank you to my friends on Skype who encouraged this on, even when I was whining, and The Merlin Family as well as The Warlock and His King Network on Tumblr for being a wonderfully excitable bunch ❤ ❤ ❤ )
> 
> Because I missed the date of [Alex's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/babyintrenchcoat/pseuds/babyintrenchcoat) birthday but I'M POSTING NOW. I LOVE YOU.
> 
>  
> 
> Day #13: "rimming"

*

 

Arthur couldn't remember what awful he had done to deserve this.

It couldn't have been firing his interns last November (Mordred had too much heart, and George, despite all his promising subservient tendencies, nearly bored him to death with his brass jokes.) Hell, maybe it was his young days tugging Gwen's pigtails every chance he got.

Or when he had called Morgana a no-good, smelly _girl_ , as if the very word had been capable of disease.

In any case, this was considered treason in Arthur's mind.

Not that he had much to be prideful about now. Arthur had purposefully stepped down from his father's business, as well as his hefty allowance earnings (and possibly from Uther's will) to seek out his _own_ life. Find what he was good at. Study an unusual subject, maybe Engineering or Classics; be involved in something that didn't involve cost benefits or any stock exchange.

Turned out, it was all good in theory. Living on your own, as much as attending university, benefited from _costs_.

Hence: the local deli.

It paid well. There were many available hours. His mates were fantastic about the job—when they weren't being complete tossers.

Elyan thought himself a cheeky git and handed Arthur the scrap of ticket, staring expectantly. Arthur grimaced visibly at the printed, double-digit number and then sent the same look at the other highly amused man.

"You're an arse," he muttered, ignoring the snicker.

Arthur's voice boomed out.

"Number _69_!"

A nearby teenage girl in waist-high khaki shorts let out a cackle.

Christ no, he wasn't turning funny colors. He _wasn't_.

"69!"

Stubbornly, Arthur kept his expression blank as he glanced the deli's occupants. Even if it _felt_ like his face was growing hot. This was—utter rubbish. Elyan was going to pay _dearly_ later.

Suddenly, an arm rose, pale-skinned and covered with dark hairs.

"I volunteer," a boy called out, full lips curling.

A twitch of something peculiarly _nice_ went down Arthur's spine at the self-satisfied, low baritone. Sounded a lot older than he looked.

For a moment, Arthur forgot his embarrassment and the awkwardly high laughter surrounding him in favor of this brave idiot.

Dark, comfortably baggy clothes matching his dark, messy hair and the hand attached to the arm had rather long, bony fingers. With fingernails painted an immaculate, glossy black. The brightest feature to him however was the _eyes_ —a horribly romantic blue that probably spawned poetry equally as horrific. Arthur had never been a fan of poetry.

But the way this boy was looking at him… …

… Arthur could do with a poetry lesson or two. Preferably rigorous and oral.

"I'm Merlin." he introduced himself around closing, after hanging back and chatting with a few strangers. Strangers to Arthur at least.

Except Gwaine. Sometimes Arthur wished Gwaine was a sodding stranger. Merlin's grip came across warm and pleasantly strong. A flash of titanium ball poked between Merlin's teeth as he spoke, the tongue ring signaling a ' _fucking suck me_ ' to Arthur.

"Ar—Arthur. I'm Arthur."

He shook Merlin's hand clumsily, joining him on the sidewalk while Elyan finished closing with a wink, trying not to stare more than necessary.

Merlin grinned at the verbal stumble.

"I'm thinking you're not from around here, mate," he announced, as if it were the most plainly obvious thing, but still needed to be acknowledged.

" _Barmy_ ," Arthur said, not bothering to hide the sarcastic quirk of his lip.

The evening air smelled like it was going to start pouring rain again. He pulled his jacket closer to him, shying away to avoid a small group weaving themselves by, too caught up in a mutual joke to notice any others. A burst of rowdy laughter in the distance.

This time, he caught Merlin staring at him, but with curiosity.

"Alright there, _mate_?" Arthur's voice clipped.

"You look like you could use some loosening up, eh…"

That gorgeous tongue would definitely be the ticket for it, Arthur thought with heat gathering in his belly. Waiting for the plunge, so to speak.

"I'm… open to suggestions."

"Thought you said you were _Arthur_ ," came a snorting, amused breath. That was enough ridiculousness for Arthur's sanity before he had his fingers carding Merlin's thick curls, their mouths sucking eager kisses and then slowly licking apart, hands roaming necks and shoulders.

Not giving zero damns that they were still in front of the deli's entrance.

Whether or not Merlin had went for the opportunity first or not, he didn't hear any rebuttals on the subject, Merlin's hands now yanking the collar of Arthur's thrifted, neon-bold jacket and getting him closer.

The twin titanium balls rolled against Arthur's tongue, sliding easily with their mingled saliva, addictive metallic and salty and the brand new taste of Merlin. When he curled the tip of his tongue around the bottom of one, teasing it lightly, Merlin groaned his approval, warm gusts of breath into Arthur's mouth, scrambling for a better hold on Arthur.

Fortune was that Merlin often kept his word, and did it with a bleedin' smile on his face, shoving Arthur into his terribly cramped flat.

And once getting past the "I'm clean—you're clean—I haven't been with a girl bare in well over a year—and you have loads more condoms than Gwaine _what the hell_ " he tugged off Arthur's rain-splattered jacket and his clothing with the vigor of a man only an hour or two left to him.

With his teeth. Not all with his teeth.

But Arthur strangely liked the enthusiasm.

"Holy _shite_ , fuck, Merlin," Arthur managed to get out, canting, feeling Merlin's thumbs rub into his arse's cleft. "Is this—?"

"—a good idea?" Merlin added thoughtfully, stroking until Arthur's muscles clench less. "Don't think I'd be bollocks out with you if you were a creep. Though… you do seem like a dollophead."

_"What?"_

Arthur reached back to swat at him, unsuccessful in gauging the distance. Merlin's sudden laugh drifted in pleasantly.

Lips pressed a path of sweet kisses to Arthur's cleft, and Merlin's tongue wetly nudged against his hole, spearing in and coiling. The brush of cool metal balls fondling Arthur's rim. He nearly caved to a whispery scream.

He didn't have the nerve to tell him this was the first time Arthur was bedding a complete stranger, and Merlin… didn't feel like a stranger.

 _At all_.

He was comforting, with real, hot skin pressed against him. He had horrifically poetic blue eyes. A pseudo-punk rock sense of fashion.

More importantly, Arthur didn't believe Merlin showing up at the deli and raising his hand was entirely a universal coincidence.

Seeking out his _own_ life led him to Merlin.

Arthur wouldn't take that back for any amount of financial security.

"Oi, dollophead," Merlin called out drowsily an hour later, affectionately. He squirmed against Arthur's weight, nudging a glossy black fingernail to a shoulder. "Geddoff."

 

*


End file.
